


Queer Street

by FlyingFleshEater



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, the boxing au i've been working on forever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFleshEater/pseuds/FlyingFleshEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Queer Street: the moment when a boxer or similar combatant is dazed from getting struck on the head but remains standing.</p><p>Or</p><p>Lexa is a boxer. Clarke is definitely not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queer Street

Clarke isn’t entirely sure how Octavia talks her into most of the things she did, but joining her at her boxing class is probably the most idiotic thing she’s ever agreed to. Clarke isn’t exactly…active. In fact, Clarke’s idea of a hard work out is having to climb to the second level of a soccer stadium while balancing three beers.

The boxing gym is in a part of town that Clarke hasn’t spent much time in. It is near the highway and catty corner to the crematorium, just at the edge of a rougher looking residential area. It is not the best part of town. This was evidenced further by the fact that two of the four large windows at the front of the building are spider-webbed with cracks where someone had attempted to bust them with rocks, or maybe bricks. Two more windows on the side of the building are completely boarded up.

Clarke can’t help the way her lip curls just a little when she steps out of Octavia’s car and gets her first look at the building. Octavia elbows her hard in the ribs when she rounds the front of the car and Clarke flinches away.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Octavia fixes her with a look just as hard as the point of her elbow had been. “Shut. Up.”

Clarke rubs her side and consciously blanks her expression. Octavia nods her approval and walks toward the gym entrance. The door is held open with a cinder block. Even from outside Clarke can hear the sounds of heavy blows from multiple sources.

It seems smaller on the inside.

Most of the room is taken up with a boxing ring, only leaving enough space around three sides for the rest of the equipment. Four heavy bags are hanging along the front just inside the door, the side wall has three speed bags set up, one much lower than the other two. Several large tractor tires are leaning against the far side of the ring, and the back end of the building is too shadowed for Clarke to make out much from her position in the doorway.

There are only five people inside, other than herself and Octavia. A tall man, shirtless and glistening in all his sweaty, muscular glory, is working one of the speed bags methodically. Clarke takes note of the way Octavia’s eyes linger over his bare back. Another man, this one much hairier than the first, is in the ring with a young woman, holding up mitts for her to strike. The girl has her back to them also, her lack of shirt shows off not only her impressive lean build but also a detailed tattoo that follows her spine. Her sports bra covers most of the design, but even from a distance Clarke can tell that it's intricate. 

Two women are at the front of the room, one, a younger Asian with a severe expression and blonde hair, is jumping rope in one corner, the other is an older black woman with a scar under her left eye that follows the curve of the socket. This is the person that Octavia approaches immediately, despite the fact that she is very obviously in the middle of beating the stuffing out of the heavy bag in front of her.

Octavia doesn’t say anything to the woman, she just stands off to the side and watches her intently. Clarke feels awkward doing the same thing, but she doesn’t really have any other idea what she should be doing. They stand there like that for about ten seconds before a high pitched beeping noise fills the small gym, startling Clarke into a jump. Suddenly, there is rush that takes over the room. All five start moving at a much faster pace. The woman that Octavia had approached has her eyes closed as she focuses on hitting the bag as fast as possible. Sweat drips steadily off her chin onto the mat under her, and she’s not the only one. The girl in the ring has moved and Clarke looks back to her. Her arms are moving so fast that Clarke can only really get a passing look at how well defined her muscles are, and her face is set in a pained grimace. She shines under the flickering florescent lights and Clarke can admit to herself that she’s entranced.

Another beep sounds and the flurry of activity dies almost instantly.

“You’re late.” Clarke jumps again at the harsh reprimand from the woman Octavia lead them to. Octavia doesn’t seem surprised or bothered by the tone.

“Sorry, I had to pick up my friend. She wanted to come today.” Clarke says nothing in the face of that lie but her smile feels strained. “Clarke, this is my coach, Indra.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Indra takes one quick look at her and grunts dismissively. Clarke feels mildly insulted, but more than that she’s hopeful that it means she won’t have to actually work out. Unfortunately, she has no such luck. “Don’t just stand there! Start your warm up,” she barks at Octavia. Octavia beams and quickly scampers away with a wave and a thumbs up at Clarke.

“Don’t leave me,” Clarke mouths at her but Octavia just grins harder. Clarke looks back to Indra anxiously, awaiting some form of instruction. Indra gives her another disdainful onceover and sighs heavily, as if Clarke’s being there is personally offensive. Before Clarke gets a chance to open her mouth and stick her foot right in, another beep fills the gym and activity begins again.

Indra looks over her shoulder to the ring where the girl fighter has started to hit the mitts again and calls out. “Heda! Got one for you.” She then turns back to the heavy bag and returns to her workout as if she hadn’t been bothered at all.

Clarke turns away as well, figuring that whoever Indra had called out to was who she should speak to, and she’s just in time to see the girl in the ring duck between two of the ropes and hop down to the floor. Her feet hit the concrete almost silently. She hops in place a few times, swinging her arms around to loosen up, and then grabs a small towel that’s handing over the edge of the ring. Despite not having control of her fingers because of her gloves, she doesn’t seem to suffer a lack of dexterity.

“Hey, I’m Lexa.” She wipes her face with the towel and tosses it back to its previous resting place, then she takes the edge of the Velcro strap on her glove between her teeth and pulls it open.

Her arms flex.

Clarke’s mouth goes dry.

Lexa is sweaty and panting but her eyeliner is on point and Clarke forgets that she knows how to speak English and can understand social cues for a few long seconds. “Clarke,” she says once her brain finally decodes the questioning expression on Lexa’s face.

“What exactly are you looking for here?” Lexa takes off her other glove. Her hands are heavily wrapped in red. She leaves the wraps on and puts her hands on her hips.

Clarke flounders, too stuck on just how good Lexa’s abs look with a sheen of sweat on them. There’s a tattoo on her right bicep that she hadn’t noticed before, but now she can see just how well the swirling lines of ink accentuate the muscle there. “Um…I don’t know,” she manages after a moment. Her face feels hot and she’s glad that the inside of the gym is sweltering because at least she can blame any flush on that.

“Well are you wanting to be a fighter or are you just looking to get in shape, or…” Lexa trails off.

“Oh!” Clarke feels like an idiot. “I guess I just want to get a little more fit, yeah. I don’t have what it takes to be a real boxer.” Clarke laughs awkwardly at the end because Lexa is looking at her so intently.

“Well, let’s start easy. How far can you run?”

Clarke blinks owlishly. “That depends on what’s chasing me.” If it’s bees she can get pretty far.

Lexa smirks. “Me. I’m chasing you.”

Clarke’s mouth runs away from her before she can stop it. “Well, not very far then.” She closes her mouth so quickly over the last syllable that her teeth click. She can feel her flush renew with a vengeance.

Lexa’s mouth quirks into an almost smile but she doesn’t comment on Clarke’s blunder. Clarke isn’t sure if the lack of acknowledgement is more or less embarrassing. She mostly just wishes that Lexa would flirt back, hopefully just as awkwardly as Clarke, but instead she’s purely professional.

“What about pushups?”

“Zero.”

“Have you ever hit a heavy bag?”

“No.”

Lexa hums thoughtfully, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Well, we have a lot of work to do then.”

~~

Clarke feels like a poorly wrung out towel. A bead of sweat rolls down over the tip of her nose and splashes on the mat under her, leaving a small dark spot behind that her eyes go unfocused staring at. Her hair hasn’t stayed entirely in the tail she tied it back in earlier and is tickling over her cheeks. She wants to brush it aside but knows that she won’t be able to hold herself up any longer if she does that.

“Five more.”

Lexa wouldn’t be out of place as a drill sergeant, Clarke is convinced.

“I can’t.” Her arms shake with the effort of holding her weight.

“You can.” Lexa’s calm voice is much less attractive after an hour of quiet and measured instructions.

Oh, who is she kidding? Lexa’s unflappable calm is actually stupidly hot.

Clarke lowers herself again and tries not to burst into tears, which would be overly dramatic even for her.

“You’re doing very well, Clarke.” Lexa’s tongue clicks over the hard consonants in Clarke’s name and Clarke’s heart trips around in her chest every time she hears it.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Clarke manages with a grunt when she forces herself up again.

“I’m not lying.” Lexa sounds almost offended by the assumption, but Clarke doesn’t have the energy to turn her head and check. “Four more.”

Somehow, through a mixture of sheer cussedness and a desire to not embarrass herself in front of such a beautiful girl, Clarke makes it through the last four pushups and then immediately flops down onto the mat, breathing heavily.

The round marker beeps and the sounds of fists on bags stop.

“Take this round off, then meet me in the ring.”

Clarke doesn’t move from her position until the round marker beeps and the light turns from green to yellow. She has thirty seconds to get to the ring, she knows, and she grabs her water weakly and rolls onto her back before sitting up. By the time she makes it to the edge of the ring, the round marker beeps again and the red light flashes on. She stumbles into the ring, nowhere near as graceful climbing through the ropes as most of the others she’s seen. Lexa has her back to Clarke and is speaking quietly to Indra at the opposite end of the ring. Clark leans back against the elastic ropes behind her and tries to muster her strength.

The older woman nods at whatever Lexa says and turns away. When Lexa turns back to Clarke, she smirks at the way Clarke is slouched against the ropes. “We have two other new members, they will be joining us momentarily. Until they do, I want you to do Up Downs once the round starts. Do you know how to do them?”

Clarke shakes her head. She knows perfectly well what Up Downs are, of course. Octavia does them when she is stressed or thinking about something difficult. She just wants to see Lexa do one.

Lexa shows Clarke exactly what she expects and Clarke mostly pays attention to the flex and contraction of Lexa’s biceps.

The round marker beeps again and the light flashes to green. Clarke groans even as she begins to jog in place.

“Down!” Lexa orders.

Clarke hits the canvas with an inelegant crash and then scrambles to her feet again. This happens several more times before two young boys climb into the ring.

“Boys, join Clarke for the rest of the round,” Lexa commands.

The boys fall in line quickly, both of them shooting sideways glances at Clarke. She’s sure that her face is red and splotchy, and she knows that her shirt is sweat soaked. Not at all a pretty picture.

Lexa continues to order them down at a regular pace until the yellow light switches on. At that point, Clarke can barely get to her feet again before Lexa is ordering them down. There are a few instances where she doesn’t make it up in time and just lays on the floor for a few seconds.

It feels like an eternity before the round marker beeps.

“Okay,” Lexa begins as soon as the light turns red. She points out the seams in the canvas. “I want one of you straddling each of these seams. Boys, your right feet need to be forward, Clarke, your left foot will be forward.” Lexa demonstrates the stance she wants them to take. “Move, move, move! You only have a minute.”

They all scramble for position, though Clarke’s scrambling is particularly weak.

“When I say step, I want you all to step forward with your front foot and then bring your back foot into positon. Stay in your stance. Your feet need to be farther apart, all of you. Bend your knees.”

The round marker beeps and Lexa orders them to step. Compared to the other exercises she’d been put through, this one is easy, if awkward. They all make it to the other end of the ring and then turn around and go back.

“Your stance needs to be wider, Clarke,” Lexa says suddenly, interrupting the rhythm of her directions. She crosses the ring to stand in front of Clarke. “Do you understand why?”

Clarke doesn’t, and says so. It feels unnatural to stand with her legs so far apart, and then to step forward with her front foot first, making the gap wider.

She doesn’t see Lexa move in time to react. One second she’s standing there, looking down at the way her feet are arranged, and the next Lexa has pushed her right onto her ass with one hand. Clarke flails in an effort to stay on her feet, but it’s useless. She lands with a loud crash.

The two kids giggle at her and Clarke sticks her tongue out at them before climbing to her feet. She keeps her stance wider from then on and Lexa makes no further comment about it.

When they finish out that round, Lexa adds in shadow boxing, calling out for a jab or a cross with each step, and then they exit the ring and it’s the speed bag. Then on to the heavy bag with borrowed gloves. Clarke can barely hit the bag hard enough for it to sway. By the time they’re finished Clarke’s arms feel like overcooked noodles and she’s amazed that she still has her feet under her.

Of course, there’s still a round of jump roping, during which Clarke trips over the rope and her own feet an impressive number of times. The boys are keeping up fine and Clarke wishes for a little of their energy. Finally, the shadows start to get long and Lexa wraps it up.

“Alright, good job today. I want the three of you to do six laps around the building and then you’re done.”

Clarke groans and slumps her way out of the ring after the two boys. Lexa follows them with a smirk that only makes Clarke want to make out with her more.

She makes it through the first three laps before she has to stop and sit on the sidewalk with her head between her knees. She’s too tired to even be startled with a soft hand lands on her shoulder.

“Are you dizzy?” Lexa asks gently.

“A little.”

“You can be done for the day. Don’t worry about it.” There’s nothing mocking about Lexa’s tone, but for some reason Clarke feels offended by the suggestion that she can’t make it, and she’s back on her feet.

“I can do it.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Clarke. There’s no need to make yourself sick over a little running.”

“I can do it,” Clarke repeats, with more heat this time.

Lexa holds her hands up in surrender and Clarke takes off. She runs the first lap quickly enough that Lexa seems surprised when she rounds the last corner. She slows down after that, but she does make it, finally.

“Good job today, Clarke. We hope to see you again,” Lexa says in parting, then she heads back into the gym to the back room.

It’s only later, once she has crawled bonelessly into Octavia’s car, that her friend has a chance to talk to her.

“I can’t believe you got a lesson from Lexa!” She slams her hand excitedly on the steering wheel and Clarke marvels at her ability to be energetic when she was put through an even harder workout than Clarke was. “She put me with Indra the first day.”

“It’s only because she didn’t want to bother anyone else with my level of incompetence.”

Octavia snorts. “That’s probably true.”

Clarke huffs and reaches over to swat weakly at Octavia. She misses pathetically and leans back in her seat, defeated and drained of all energy. Octavia laughs at her.

“It’s how you separate the wheat from the chaff. She probably thinks you’re too weak.”

This makes Clarke sit up a little straighter. She’s never been able to resist a challenge and Octavia knows it. “What time do I need to be ready tomorrow?”

Octavia smiles. “I’ll pick you up at 5:30.”

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine.”


End file.
